The Only One
by DressagePunk
Summary: Bellatrix was the only one who served him; completely faithfully. It nearly destroyed her to find out; find out that Voldemort wasn't the Pureblood that she thought he was. But she still loved him, she'd still fight for him.


Title: The Only One

Character(s): Bellatrix Lestrange, Lordy Voldy, Other Death Eaters

Rating: T

Warning(s): Grammar, and Sentence Fragments.

Challenge(s): Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges – The Evanescence Song Challenge by Gamma Orionis

Word Count: 2,647

AN: This is a one-shot, based on the song "The Only One" by Evanescence

She didn't know why it didn't affect her the same. But it didn't; and she couldn't let it. She could see the weakness in them; maybe it was because of her upbringing. Maybe he favored her; she snorted, he wouldn't do that.

She ran a once manicured hand through Rodolphus's hair. He just stated huddled in a ball, he wasn't the same fighter she was. No one could fight like those within the Noble House of Black. She heard a whimper, she snapped her hand back. Failing to hide weakness was inevitable; but voluntarily portraying it was entirely wrong.

"You know you're not the only one" She said scathingly as his head shot up. She couldn't but help resent those red eyes. She wouldn't cry, this was worth the suffering. Fighting for the ideals of her family; they were worth the pain.

The next day - flying lessons. It sounded schoolish but it wasn't. Dark magic, ancient magic thought to be deceased. He had mastered it; he'd brought the lost magic back, to fight the war. For them to win the war against the impure, against the disease and fungus that lived in their world.

She emptied her mind, blank, except for up. All she thought was up. All she wanted was up. She felt her shoes lift off the ground, she finally opened her eyes. He was cursing someone else, but as he noticed her, he bowed his head. She smiled and slowly returned to the ground.

She walked around the circle of death eaters. Draco seemed to be doing incredibly well. Lucius got up quickly but one glance and he hit the floor. Mid-flight he came crashing down, he was punished greatly. How could one of the Dark Lord's best men be so incredibly weak? How were they able to fail their lord? The Dark Lord would not have weak followers. They wouldn't win the war with weak followers.

She waited as Death Eaters disapparated around her. They were all slowly leaving; but she needed a moment with him. Just him. As he broke his curses contact with Lucius he left in a flash. He didn't want to talk with her; she hadn't earned his presence. The bow was recognition not acceptance.

She watched as Lucius pulled himself to his feet, "Nothings ever good enough for him, is it?" Lucius said with malice.

"I am" he didn't need any more explanation. No one should be able to fail the dark lord. It was criminal; it was insane; how could you live with yourself after disappointing the dark lord? Lucius never had much of a backbone.

"You know, you're not the only one." he replied before leaving. But he was wrong; she was the only one who truly deserved the Dark Lord. She would serve him faithfully until her end. She'd do anything for him.

She watched Draco struggle the next day, part of her wanted to help her nephew; but he needed to succeed without her. He had to succeed without her. She watched him be tortured. She saw the light starting to leave his eyes.

He was learning to be alone; he had to be alone; because when you were dependent on people you became venerable. She was venerable but she wouldn't admit it. She'd never admit that her heart was stabbed with an ice cold dagger. He'd never love her back; she wasn't allowed to admit her true feelings. She couldn't.

Bellatrix found Draco with a bottle that night. His world seemed to be lit up with imaginary characters. His stupor was reminiscent of his mental absence. He wasn't mentally behind the movement; he needed to be. But he'd found his back door out of loneliness; booze. Her's was love; and it was just as melodramatic as it sounded. She was never alone, she had her lord; he would never abandon her. He couldn't abandon her, she was dependent on him; totally and completely.

She grabbed a half drunk bottle from Draco's fist, "You know you're not the only one." She drained a few measures, she wanted him, she wanted his body to worship. She loved him, only him. He was the only one that could save her. He was the one that fought for her ideals. He was her deity, and she was his humble servant.

They stood in a circle. Hushed and waiting for him to arrive. They'd lost Potter. He was furious; they'd all grieve the loss. They needed Potter dead, he was the only one who could kill the dark lord. She wanted to weep for their failures but Black's didn't cry. Maybe Lestrange's did; but Black's most certainly did not.

Lucius cursed the world under his breathe. Draco had a tear spilling from his left eye. Lestrange seemed to be shaking, tremors. He was scared. She couldn't help but sneer. Dolohov seemed unable to concentrate. Not even on the fire in front of them. Bellatrix focused on the fire. They were all grieving, grieving the loss of Potter and her lord hadn't shown up yet.

She felt lost, they had failed him, she had failed him. How could she call herself his most faithful when she couldn't catch a teenage boy. She was furious; her heart seemed to be bleeding.

She could feel bloody running into open cavities, maybe not in the same maimed way as most of the others, but she was bleeding. They deserved to bleed for lack of magical talent; she deserved to bleed for disappointing him.

It was only two weeks later, she found out the truth. Not some fabricated lie, a legitimate truth, she'd killed ten Muggles that night. He couldn't have lied to her like that, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have betrayed her like that. But he did. He was a filthy half-blood, he was a bloody Muggleborn. She hated him.

But she couldn't help but worship him. She had too, she loved him. There was a fine line between love and hate; she'd accepted that. She hated that it had taken a half-blood to bring their movement together. They'd been searching for a leader; they needed someone to head the war front. They'd turned to the very idea of the people they hate to head their effort.

She couldn't believe him anymore, how could he want them killed if he belonged with them. How could he have lied to her? How could she not have known? How could she still love him? She'd follow him into the end, but she wouldn't trust him again.

That night she kneeled on the edge of her bed, begging. Begging the god to give her a chance. Begging the gods not to strike her down for standing behind a half-blood. She prayed for light to save her, from the darkness he'd become. He was the archetype of what she hated, but she loved him, more than the movement, more than her ideals.

She woke up the next morning, she wouldn't open her eyes. She wanted it to be a dream, wanted it to be a giant fallacy, but it wouldn't be. Her life wasn't a fairytale; her life was a horror story. And somehow he managed to be her protagonist and her antagonist. All at the bloody same time. She finally worked up the courage to awake.

She danced around in a daze. It wasn't much unlike the Dark Lord, being inside her head. She was hypnotized. She was controlled by him, willingly and involuntarily. She'd follow him anywhere and she hated herself for admitting that. She should be the noble leader, but a half blood overshadowed her.

He killed a few wizards over the next few days. She followed, nearly tripling his number of kills. He was trying to prove his power; she proved her equality. Hell, she proved her bloody superiority. He wasn't the only one that deserved all the power.

For once she was jealous, she wanted the power. She deserved the power. The power was her birth right.

That night she'd confronted him, "Where do you get off, holding yourself with Purebloods; when all you are is a filthy half-blood?" she snarled

His sharp nails dug into her cheek spinning it so her eyes met his, "Bella, I'm better than all of this. Blood status doesn't matter. I matter. Harry Potter dead is the only other thing that matters to Me." he sneered in her ear.

She wanted to hit him. Blood rank meant something, it meant something to everyone. She wasn't going to be told what to do. But that isn't what hit her the hardest. He didn't care about her. She loved and he didn't care; he didn't notice. How could the world's greatest wizard not notice his most faithful servant? How could he not notice her?

She'd never understand, she never understood her life to begin with. How could she? Warped parents, bitchy siblings, a racist environment. She didn't understand the world. She should be a spitting image of perfect, but she was broken, torn, shredded. She couldn't compete with him, she wouldn't compete with him. She still fucking loved him.

Bellatrix accepted his words. She didn't deserve his place. She'd earned her's; she couldn't fathom the power, the control. The things she'd never gain, because she'd never fight for them. How could she? He was right, and he was powerful. You can't fight against your own god.

He punished her for her disloyalty to him; for her mutiny. She relished every second. She enjoyed the pain from him; it meant she was a threat, it meant her words had meaning. As he left she shot after him, "you know I'm not the only one."

She wasn't the only one that questioned his leadership. She was the only one to publicly question him, but others had their fears. Others didn't have her will power; others weren't the threat she was. By that small interaction, she knew how much power she had, and how to use it.

The next few months were grueling; they had many losses, but none as great as her's. How does one deal with losing a god, a father figure, a love? She could handle it. She blocked everything out, she became cruel. She killed anyone that even mildly infuriated her. She would let the world know there was not one as strong as she was. She would let the world know that she hated all Muggleborns and Half-bloods. While she secretly loved one. No one could know.

They grieved for fellow followers, she grieved for herself. Everyone had lost their mental state. Both sides were fighting a war, unable to see the sky. She'd lost her mental state; no that's she had one to begin with. She knew there was something off; she just didn't know that she'd been in love with a Half-blood. She'd never accept it. It was a fact, but in her mind, it was long implanted myth.

Rosier started to cry, Dolohov was close behind, and Draco had been crying for the last few months. They were all bleeding hearted sissies. She wasn't crying; she wasn't bleeding. She had been too quick to get hit by a curse and too cold to be hurt by death.

She couldn't stand the lack of attention. She couldn't deal with his solitarily. They'd waited since they first learned the ideals as children, they'd waited for leadership. They'd wanted this fight; they'd sacrificed for this fight. He left them, not permanently but it scared her. They weren't united without him.

He kept lying to them, lying about where he was, lying to them. She couldn't trust him, but she still loved him. She pleaded with the gods not to punish her for being in love with a half-blood. She fought for the proper cause. The gods would save her, even if she couldn't save herself.

They were reunited, for battle but it didn't matter. Any time in his presence was worth it, but it wasn't enough. She stood in the front, at his side, and as the protective enchantments started to break with the blue hexes from their wands. Her wand shot blue light to break down the protection over Hogwarts. She wanted in, she wanted to kill Potter. She wanted to cement herself to the Dark Lord; cement the fact she was his most faithful. She looked off the cliff, and quickly looked away. She wouldn't fall when they were together, she couldn't.

That's when she saw him look down, he couldn't look down either. He was looking into the eyes of those who wanted to kill him, those that he was most like. She shook the thought from her head, the world was beneath them. The people down below weren't the people he was supposed to be looking into the eyes of. He was supposed to look into her eyes. See her love, see her pain.

But he looked down once again. She didn't want him to look down, what if he fell. He was going to fall down. He'd fall into their grasps, what if he wasn't strong enough to guard against them? But she wouldn't have fallen in love with a weak man. She couldn't have fallen in love with a weak man. She was in love with Rodolphus once, he was weak. But at the time he was strong, stronger than her. But now she was stronger. She wouldn't let the Dark Lord become the sacrifice they wanted him to be. He needed to fight.

She wouldn't let him die; he wasn't allowed to give himself for their movement. She stepped in front of him. Not in a manner of superiority but in a matter of protectiveness. He needed to be protected.

The battle raged on, how could these people fight for something that was wrong. How could they valiantly give up their lives for the wrong ideals? She knew she was fighting for the right cause, but she couldn't hold on. How could all these people doubt her beliefs, how could they all doubt her?

She fought, killing many, wounding a few. But she kept him within her sights; she wouldn't let him leave her. She feared losing him, she didn't fear death. She had never feared anything, but she feared losing him. She knew she was lost without him. She mentally lost herself when he wasn't everything she expected. She'd kill herself if he was gone.

That's when it happened, Harry Potter killed him. A weak, strange teenage boy killed the greatest wizard the world had ever seen. She felt pain in her chest, like her heart had been ripped out. But she didn't have a heart. It was visceral pain, pain through her core. It ripped through her.

At that, she lost all feeling. She killed everything she came upon, even death eaters. She had too; the body she was in wasn't her's. This couldn't have happened to her. Why did she deserve to lose the only man she ever truly loved?

She didn't feel anything when she killed her sister's daughter. She didn't care; she killed anyone in her wake, even Avery's daughter. It wasn't real. It was a dream; no one could kill the dark lord. He hadn't given her any power. But someone had taken his.

They started losing ground; Death Eaters were falling left and right. They had waited for their leader, but he left them. She couldn't believe him; he said he'd never leave them. He said he'd never die, He said he'd live forever. He was the only one that could save her. He was the only one for her.

As she watched her followers die, she prayed. Prayed that the gods would save her; Save her from the love of an impure man, save her from this world. Save her, the only one who still begged for forgiveness.

AN: Please Review :) I love them :)


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